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My dog crawling around on his hands and knees, seeking a treasure from the sea

I couldn’t resist choosing this as the title. I giggle at it, smiling at the memories that are revealed in the photos for this post, and those memories make me happy.

It’s been a challenging couple of weeks for my pup. I empathize with the curve balls life has thrown him. Nothing insurmountable, nothing that time and patience won’t heal, but still – pain in the ass stuff. Mostly around his car. And travel plans. And work. And logistics. All first world problems, we know. But still, we can feel it. It squeezes him much differently than I squeeze him. I dare say he likes My pressure much more than life pressure right now.

I’ve worked with care to keep him on a short leash during this time. My dog can have his day, but his upset is only allowed to go so far. He is not permitted to bring cranky into the bed. Like dust on a dog, he must shake it off before getting naked and jumping beneath the covers with me.

The other day we went to a small, local beach that is not widely known. It’s our secret gem right outside of the biggest city in the state. Being Maine, that isn’t too big of a thing, but still… it’s so wonderful to have it. It is really only accessible during low tide, and when the waters retreat, a beautiful little stretch of beach reveals itself to whose who know of its carefully hidden location. If there are 15 people on the beach, it’s crowded. It’s a place where almost anything goes. Small groups of adults will gather with a bottle of wine and a plate of nosh and watch the sail boats go by. Kids can strip down to their underpants and take a quick swim before heading home, and no one cares. And dogs are allowed off leash, at all times.

Nosh at secret beach

I took my boy there the other day. It was during the height of his crankiness. He probably would have rather stayed home, but I insisted that he come with me. We packed up and off we went. The tide was perfect, the day was stunning. And because dogs are permitted off leash, my boy was under strict orders to be under voice control at all times.

I got him up off his chair and ordered him to find a way to crawl around the beach area on his hands and knees. “But there are people here, all around us” my boy mildly protested. “I don’t care” was my reply. “Find a way to do it, and do it now” was my final answer.

And so he did.

Feigning a make believe interested in exploring up close the tiny sea critters that climb among the rocks when the tide is right, my boy crawled on his hands and knees. I was walking next to him, and to the average onlooker, it appeared as though my man was intently exploring some type of marine biology with intellectual passion, but really, he wasn’t. He was following my softly spoken commands.

If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that we aren’t really into puppy play. It is somewhat rare that we actually do this sort of thing. We will use little, endearing dog references, but otherwise, puppy play is not our thing. But on this day, it was. I was enamored at the opportunity to play in public like this. It is one of my favorite things to do. Right out in the open, in public, for anyone to see, my boy was crawling around on his hands and knees, following the softly spoken orders that I gave him. No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. People walked by him, engaged in their own conversations, and occasionally someone would smile at the man on his hands and knees, exploring the rocks and seaweed, accompanied by a woman who was taking pictures. The only thing that could have made this better would have been to have him naked, with toy troy next to him. In my mind, and in my imagination, he was very naked. And collared. And leashed. Because even in a playground with few rules such as this one, it’s nice to have order.

Gift from the sea. The sand dollar that my boy found while digging, placed on his back, next to the brand I had placed on his skin a year ago.

My feet, and his hand, as he crawls near the rocks, digging and sniffing.

It was 2 weeks ago today…..this morning….that we were loading up the very last of what would fit in the car. Troy toy had come by to see us off. He would be flying down a 6 days later to join us for his ‘first-ever’ kinky adventure.

We left a few days ahead of time in order to make a social stop. We took the ferry from Connecticut and landed in Orient Point, Long Island, NY. It is the remote part of Long Island, a lot of Vineyards, windy roads, farm lands. Beautiful. Within 6 minutes of being there, my boy found a public access trail that lead to the cliffs of the north shore. Crystal clear blue skies, tall grasses blowing in the breeze, wild flowers everywhere. All looking out over sparkling waters and rugged islands. Spectacular.

We walked down that public path, realizing quickly that we were the only ones on it. We got to the end, looked up and down the beach, and saw a few people about 1/4 mile away. Perfect. Within moments, my boy was told to strip naked, and he did. It was wonderful to talk photos of him like that. Million dollar homes in the distant background, far off boaters in the distant foreground, and in the middle of it all, my naked slave.

It is moments like this that I love so very much, the calculated risks we take to get and keep our kink on. We go to significant lengths to not be discovered by others. That would be non-consent. But we certainly press our faces up against that particular glass time and time again. We have fucked in public more times that I can count or recall. We’ve fucked, made love, we ripped into one another, and we have lingered. All while the busy world continues to hum all around us.

Many have asked over the years about this “camp” my boy and I go to on average two times a year. Some years, we go three times. For 8-10 days we get to live in adult, naked bliss. The word “camp” is generic. The experience is anything but.

Since I will be away and unplugged for a week, I thought I would schedule some posts about camp, sharing the things I love about it. I am not naming this place, I am not naming the dot com who owns and runs it, and I am not naming any names. But suffice it to say, it is all very real. For these weeks, we get to create and participate in a magical wonderland for consenting adults. Sometimes up to 1,200 of those consenting adults.

Twelve hundred sounds like a lot. And it IS a lot. But, it’s intimate, which is what I love about it. The camp has a few different locations that it changes according to the season, and for the most part, I love the summer season ‘camps’ the most. It means being outside, naked, and it means pretty much any kind of SSC play imaginable.

Camp has indoor places, with indoor plumbing, and indoor play spaces. But it has just as much outside stuff too.

A typical day at camp will find my boy naked, collared, and milling about the communal outside space of our group cabin. Camp chairs create a circle, and folks will gather, some clothed, some not. Music may or may not be playing, but if I had my way, my boy would be providing coffee to all of us with J.J. Cale crooning sweetly in the background. My boy has morning chores to do. Coffee, the making of our big bed, putting my clothing away, cleaning up our bar/kitchen area, organizing the toy bags, providing massage, running errands naked. Our cabin is one of many on a tree lined road. No cars are allowed, so there is lots of pedestrian traffic to gaze upon. We wave to friends, we smile to those we have not met, we compliment on costumes or cane marks if that is all they are wearing.

We outline our day. What shall we do today at fantasy camp for grown ups? Swim naked in the large, in ground pool (always a ‘Yes!’ vote in Chloe’s book!)? Go to any number of classes or demos that are taking place all around us? Go find one of the many play spaces and go play? Or, do I loan my boy out to others so that he might provide service to them?? Or, do I go play with another? Do we play with one another (again, always a ‘Yes!’ in my book)? Do we nap? Stroll around the grounds and play voyeur? We can do any or all of those things. And we do any and all of those things daily. Rinse, lather, repeat.

My boy knows that starting around 4pm or so, he is on duty for cocktail hour. We love cocktail hour. We don’t drink much at night, because night time is dungeon time if we so chose. But happy hour is my kind of hour. We have an enormous communal bar with our cabin mates, and each day, we have a drink special. Anyone is welcome to come by, visit and share with us. What makes it ‘special’ is that it is shaken or stirred and served from a slave. Or, at least, someone playing the role of slave. :-)

Night time has us dressing for events. There are several nightly events, and sometimes we do several, and sometimes we do none. That is the beauty of camp. There is nothing you have to do. But with so much amazing stuff taking place, it’s hard to pass stuff by. Some people get dressed up in the most amazing of fetish gear. If its a hot, summer night, some continue to walk around naked. For me, I prefer a skirt on bottom, topless on top. That is about the extent of it for me.

Sometimes my boy will be requested to top someone else. I love when this happens. I love watching him get Dom’d out. I think he is sexy as hell, and as we are a switch couple, my pleasure button gets pushed hard when I see him upload himself in this particular way. But more on THAT subject later.

I will schedule another post about camp and I will share it here over the next couple of days. I do so because this is a part of our lives. We do this for real. This place really does exist. We get to create fantasies and then go to safe places to act them out. Such as kidnappings. Have you ever been been kidnapped by a bunch of tough dudes, dressed in boots and camo? I have, and it was awesome!

I am hoping my boy will post intermittently with mine some of his own memories and reflections about camp. It is a unique experience for each of us, and yet we share in it together. In other words, it is art imitating life.

“The show” can be any number of things. For a baseball player, it’s the culmination of years of practice and focus and finally getting up to the bigs. For actors, it’s to the top of their craft, prime time TV, Broadway, a blockbuster hit, the leading man or leading lady. The Met, Carnegie, Banaroo? Well.. But you get the idea. In this case, we’re talking about showing off one’s property (cause we’re kinky like that).

A waxed man

Madame took me to the groomers last weekend for a hair and beard trim and then more recently to another groomer where I was waxed. We’ve been to this groomer before and she’s already familiar with waxing my junk and Madame is there to help, grasping and stretching skin, though Laurie (salon person, names changed… ) has still handled my parts enough. Laurie isn’t kinky, as far as we know, but she doesn’t mind us coming in and Madame giving her a hand with ripping the hair out of my body. We laugh a lot.Continue reading →